When we begin the slow descent to age
From that peak or maximum of strength
We notice nothing as it has no length
So feel no need to cry or scream in rage
When we begin.
The ” writing on the wall” is on the page.
The well off sink in angst, the workless tense;
We’ve lost our youth, our mind looks for defence
Then we begin the slow descent of age.
Then we begin.
The music that we hum is a slow dirge
An elegy falls from every pen to page
I do not feel it’s good that we should rage
But gently take the shroud of silk or serge
As in the living earth, we all shall merge.
Then life begins again